


Young and Menace

by a_mind_at_work (Madame_Marauder)



Series: Beli3ver 'verse [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Ham is trying to get along with others and everyone is weirded out, No real elams in this one, Other, The author's computer fucked up again yay, just Jefferson angsting, slight angst, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 05:49:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12314994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Marauder/pseuds/a_mind_at_work
Summary: Thomas is just trying to keep his head down, his scholarship together, and his life from falling apart.And then the student captain of the debate team bulldozes his way (back) into Thomas's life.





	Young and Menace

**Author's Note:**

> I know its short, I'm sorry, but the file fucked up and this is what I have left + editing. Gotta love it when your drive breaks.

    “Hey,” the guy in green calls out. “You were really good in there. Thomas, right?”

    Thomas blinks. “Um, yeah. Thanks,” he replies awkwardly, internally cursing the old habits that make him slow down and let the other freshman catch up to him.

    “Ever thought about joining the actual debate team?” the other asks, and Thomas raises an eyebrow at him.

     “I doubt they'd want me.”

     The other one smirks. “I think we would. It's not quite as… elitist as it used to be.”

     He takes in the beaten Converse, tan skin, and dark ponytail, and decides maybe the crazy Hamiltonian from his history class is right. “And you are…”

      “Alexander Harrison,” his companion supplies. “Junior debate team captain.”

      Oh.

      “I'd think you have things under control, then,” Thomas tries. He does, in fact, have a life. It may consist mostly of trying to hold his tenuous, patchwork scholarship together, but it's a life.

      Alexander shakes his head and grins ruefully. “I can't take every debate, I'm afraid. Something about not monopolizing the spotlight? Not that that's something I've _ever_ done.”

      “I'm not that great, not great enough for competition,” he insists.

      The infuriating young man next to him tilts his head. “You most definitely are. If you're worried about personality clashes, the other student captain literally shot me in our past life, and we're dealing with it. Can't get much more awkward than that.”

      “By all means a ringing endorsement,” Thomas responds dryly, and to his surprise Alexander actually laughs.

       “Seriously, come to the next practice. A bunch of people are thinking of signing up, it won't be awkward. Give it some thought, would you?”

       Thomas sighs. “Alright.”

* * *

 

       “The Hamslice has arrived!” Alexander shouts, slamming open the doors to the debate team meeting.

       A tall kid with an achingly familiar French accent whoops from across the room, and the buff guy next to them grins. “And if the tomcat can be on time, then pigs can fly- ack!”

      Alexander grins as the buff one pulls the thrown sweatshirt off his face. “Herc, shut up.”

      “Nah,” Herc calls back. “Don't feel like it.”

      The French one sighs. “Mes amis, we _are_ in public.”

      “Sorry, Laf,” the other two chorus, sounding not at all sorry.

      Laf huffs, and Alexander turns to face everyone else. “Alright, is everybody here? Yeah? Cool. A-a-ron, do your thing.”

      The guy standing at the front of the room, presumably named Aaron, scowls. “Okay. You all know Alexander, I'm sure. I'm Aaron. Since we have a bunch of people who are thinking of joining, I do believe the first order of business should be-”

       “English, Aaron, you're boring them already,” a girl in a coral shirt and a leather jacket calls from the side of the room. “Ham?”

       Alexander smirks. “Alright. Newbies, not newbies, partner up! Practice and tryout debates. I'll assign topics and pairs. Thomas?”

       His, “Yeah?” comes out small and uncertain.

       “You and me, financial system. Angelica, Laf, you have the decision for America to help either Britain or France during the French Revolution. Laf, you're for Britain. John and… Ben, you're doing policies on intellectual properties…”

       Thomas tunes out everyone else's debates, and frowns. Oh, he's by all means figured out exactly who's about to debate him, but can't for the life of him figure out exactly what Hamilton’s playing at.

       “Agrarian or manufacturing-centric model?” he hears Alexander ask. “I'll let you pick which side you want.”

        Might as well go with a position he knows like the back of his hand. And there's even some current-life experience he can twist to his side- “I'll take agrarian.”

        Alexander smirks. “Right then.”

 

        It takes until his more modern points for him to get an actual reaction from Hamilton- and it's a knowing, amused look, empathy dancing behind a curtain of vindication.

       Alexander flattens his argument, of course- he has history on his side, for once- but grins at him at the end of practice. “You did really well, especially for arguing against something so established.”

      “I have practice,” Thomas deadpans, and tries to hide his flicker of confusion when Alexander nods and smiles.

       “I know. If I didn't have the American system to back up my side, you may well have won. Especially with that point about poor farming communities,” he admits. “Makes a whole different impact when it's genuine.”

       Thomas stares at him, and he smirks. “I think you'll remember I made a similar point in favor of manufacturing and banking.”

        And so they both know who the other used to be. But somehow, Alexander doesn't seem bitter, or angry, or at all resentful of all the shit Thomas had pulled on him in their last life. In the place of the expected anger, in fact, is just… understanding.

       The last of the others trickles out- Lafayette, clapping Alexander on the shoulder and then hurrying after Herc- and a heavy silence falls on the empty room. And then Alexander looks at him with that piercing violet gaze of his and sighs, then abruptly says, “Orphan?”

       “Yes,” Thomas blurts out before he can stop himself.

       Alexander gazes at him unreadably for a long moment. “Poor?”

       “Putting it lightly,” Thomas snaps back, and the admission tastes sour on his tongue.

       The other continues to stare from where he sits on top of the desk, then holds out a hand. “Welcome to my first life. I mean, there was a period of that this time too, but didn't take up until I was thirty, so. That's that. But you get it now.”

      Thomas stares at the offered hand, and the invisible olive branch in it. “Yeah. I get it.”

      “For what it's worth, I'm sorry you have to,” Alexander adds. “But I'm not sorry you do. If that makes sense?”

      He nods. “I suppose it does. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry about the snipes at your family. And social standing. And personal honor. And wealth. And origins. Maybe not the politics, though.”

       Alexander laughs. “Sure. You get it; you regret it. And I'm sure you've changed your mind about slavery, at this point.”

       Thomas looks down at his dark hands and snorts. “Yeah.”

       “Then we're good, on my end,” Alexander replies, lifting his hand again.

       “I helped ruin your life, Alexander,” Thomas protests faintly. He doesn't deserve to be forgiven, doesn't deserve friendship that he'll only ruin in the end.

      He shrugs. “I did that, actually, you just partially made me fess up. And that was Monroe, mostly. So?”

      Something in him curls up hopefully, but Thomas pushes it down. “Really?”

       Alexander smiles again, and there's that sympathy in his eyes. “Really, Thomas.”

 


End file.
